James A Vignette
by Morbid Luvxxx
Summary: ...a landmark in the history of contemporary fan literature, expounding on the ideas prevalent in the heartrendering TV show Rugrats and its beautiful socalled spin off, All Grown Up.... Morbid Luvxxx
1. Criminal

_**James. A Vignette.**_

_A work, by Morbid Luvxxx._

Preface

Crafted and scripted as a loose-running narrative free of artistic pretension or form, this work of avant literature attempts to assimilate the attitudes of such visionary artistionaires as Misters John Cage, Antonin Artaud, and other artists strictly unbound by commercial binding. I seek to portray the darkness of existence, for life is not all fun and games. I am only 13 years old, incredibly gifted in a smorgasbord of matters and quite find much of the work available on the website to be compromised, unintelligent and appealing to the absolute lowest common denominator. Piffling, childish nonsense masquerading as art. I, however, am here presenting a work that will, from this day forward, become widely known as a landmark in the history of contemporary fan literature, expounding on the ideas prevalent in the heartrendering TV show _"Rugrats" _and its beautiful so-called spin off, _"All Grown Up"_.

A horrifying glimpse into the deepest reaches of inhumane perversion, _"James. A Vignette"_ spares no time in self indulgence, instead viciously bludgeoning reader's mental voids with disgustingly confessional, truth-filled imagery, bleak and gritty in nature. It does this by eschewing convention and instead aiming for true verbal textures that directly hook into the reader and tear his or her soul apart. He/she will feel alienated, confused, penetrated, yet also liberated. They may cry, scream, rape or murder for the first time in their life, lest they leave their forbidden instincts forgotten for a billisecond longer. Life? laughs.

A game, is all. Just a game of dominance. Rape. Enjoy.

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_She doesn't know what it's like._

_To be me._

_In this torrent of confusion and pain._

_The world grows and subsides with each passing breath, slowly capsizing into an ominous void of cataclimatic self pity and wonderous magnitude. I slowly wipe my dry face, trying to clear away the pain and sadness coming from my upper lip._

_It represents torment._

_I, Billy Pickles, have a mission to accomplish. One of fun but also of menace. Being second cousin to the famous Dil Pickles I can only hope but to growl as loud as possible from beneath his shadow until somehow hears me, lifts the shadow and moves it somewhere out of the way. Then they'll see me growling and ask me why I'm growling, because I'm not a tiger or a bear or a wildebeast._

_I will tell them that I am alive._

_Kicking, and alive._

_My heart beats and pummels with ritualistic brutality, calling to mind the rich bloody destructive rituals of Anton Lavey and the lack of hair of same, even though this hair is in relation to the top of my head and not my soul._

_Life, how sweet it must be for the mummers._

_How pretty is my face. I am not a girl, however, and need to strive in wholly greater and more masculine states of great wonderous minds. My forehead is a beacon of promise and glistens with beads of inspiration masquerading as perspiration._

_Inperspiration. I like it._

_Great times to be had. Angelica is on that settee. Being Angelica. All she can be is herself. What brimming heart! What happy turd. Growing finances are no matter to her soul of foot, mind and taste. One would reckon it so._

_How the heart is brewing the alcohols of fun. My barley, is my barley. Hello Angelica._

_She kisses me._

_She is my aunty._

_Mmm._

_In come the police._

_I am 3 years old._

_Squelch._

_Van holds meat._

_-----_

The words above are for your conjecture. Who is James? Up to you.

_Morbid Luvxxx_


	2. The Pains of Harm

**_James. A Vignette. _**

_A work, by Morbid Luvxxx._

Preface - Chapter II

I find it appalling that my story has only received a single review thus far. It outrages me greatly for I believe that the first chapter was an incredible and shocking slap to the face of the oh-so-bourgeoius fanfiction scene. I find it quite shocking that the superficial, bubblegum works of LiL TiiNk, Gandalf3213 and Starlight Gardenia are currently ranked above _James. A Vignette_, an epic which clearly blows their ilk to the canyons of artistic worthlessness. Where they no doubt **belong**, for their lack of skill is incredibly humorous to me. Indeed, even as of this moment I struggle resisting the temptation to burst out laughing at the aforementioned authors and their inepititude. Why, they should be banned outright from this website!

The audience needs an enema, and I'm going to give it to them. An enema of the mind, soul and gut. And here it is. Enjoy this second page in the chronicles of James. A Vignette. Sip in small doses please.

* * *

_"Mom?"_

_I yawned sternly, breezily busting past my aching sores of mercy. Everything went round and I found that the best. Tommy would tell me that in university. I'd tell him he was a stupid dumb nitwit and then he'd hit me quite hard. Speaking of hard, Tommy was very much so._

_The house was full of people making it empty. I saw Mum on her own in the midst of the living room atmosphere and ate her completely. "Didi" as the wibbles called her. "Bitch" as she became to me when I held a whip in the eager claws. Lying on the floor like a dog she exposes her warmth to me spiritually, which I then whip until moist and swollen red. I lick her philosophies and smile._

_Toilets in the back, you say? I make my way there, eating all the Wotsits on the floor and murdering people illegally. It is in an attempt to make my way to the bathroom, where it smells like a horse's arse and eats people, but can be hospitable and contained in a folder. I put on my Good Charlotte cassette tape and bliss out to their Dionysian shambolism. Rebellious and brutal music. Picking up a torch with sharpness sticking out really far, I cut my wrists. This is really shocking and I hope Mum finds me so she can regret being such a crap parent even though she's awesome and I just like to cause a fuss. It's fun! But now I am dead._

_5 years later._

_"Tommy, wake up!" said Dil. "Hello Dil" I said to him smiling. He was a great brother and smelt of shit._

_3 years previously._

_Brooding cranial structure. He might not survive._

_Billy Pickles._

_Even as soon as birth, Billy was a special kid. And over the years this didn't change one bit; he had special counseling, went to a special school different from me and Dil, and took special medication as well. Another special thing that he experienced was incestual rape and castration by his cousin at the age of 3._

_Angelica... We love you but you just aren't special like Billy._

_

* * *

_

Hopefully this second chapter will right wrongs and place this story firmly, permaneantly, at position #1 where it deserves to be immortalised forever.


	3. Awakening

_**James. A Vignette.**_

_A work, by Morbid Luvxxx._

This is positively mortifying! Not only have I not yet received at least 68 reviews like I predicted yesterday, but also there are people who have the gall to brand my work as a _joke! _This leaves me spluttering! How **DARE** you criticise my art! Especially when it's obvious that you aren't fit to do so! Especially Miss Spice Of Life, who is 16 years old while I have **only just turned 13** and am still far more able in every conceivable asset! I think Ms Spice Of Life is pretty unintelligent for her age considering this! Thankfully, I believe that this poor reaction is due to what Flacks said in my reviews section - that my use of vocabulary and hallucinatory writing style is far ahead of its time. Thus I shall continue to press on regardless of critical opinion, in search of artistic darwinism. May those who condemn this work be smited from the lands of literature, lest they not be wise enough to realise that this is literary history in the making!

All the best writers had to contend with an initial wallowing in obscurity before their discovery. I, personally, have so far been labelled as "pompous" (a certain reviewer of mine is guilty of this), "arrogant" and "not the greatest writer in the world". All of these people are wrong, and to find out why, please read on!

* * *

_Flying free, as we all do in life! The cheer grows more and more and more and more... I am a happy young boy with an  
outstretched skull, named Billy. Hello everyone, you might not have met me yet in Rugrats or All Grown Up, but I'm very  
pleased to meet you all!_

_Shake my hand!_

_Does this shock you?_

_Well, I only have one._

_I also have five ears._

_I can read her thoughts. She thinks I'm a cripple. Just because my skull's a bit different, she thinks I'm a tard. And that's  
my own mother. Just wait until Angie shows up._

_Hi Angie!_

_I actually enjoy her company._

_"Whack up on the G-fly pie, yo B-man! Splack it on a QTip and pastry bumrush dat ting into your eardrummound, suckah  
monaroidium! Like... YEAH!"_

_He's practising his minstrel routine._

_There is no such thing as outdated social concepts. we are not any more evolved than the humans that lived a century ago.  
Slavery is not an outdated concept, it's an instinctual human function that's being supressed. The slaves and traders needed  
it for their cravings._

_They phoned the authorities but that doesn't change the raptures I felt as she created that encompassing 360 degree chasm  
around my soft doughy scrotum. The thrill of bright liquidy colour that spewed forth from this wound made me feel greeaaat!_

_They arrested the one person who made me happy._

_Yurine._

_I get back home and all is well, swell and oh hell - I'm late for my favourite television program! Worse, we don't have a  
television! We NEVER had a television!  
FUCKCKCKCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKERY_

_All Encompassing Reason:_

_2  
&  
'''/_

_Extremely beautiful it is. Nobody seems to realise the grandeur but me, making it all the more special than that crap  
EVERYONE likes. It's my self-actualisation process. The finery of natural existence._

_Oh fuck now it's bleeding again! THANKS ANGELICA!_

_My heart? No. My **balls!**_

_AMBULANCE!_

_4 hours later_

_That's her surname these days, after she married that cannister of piss. Anyway, I am a poet. Inspired by the works of Good  
Charlotte, Fall Out Boy and My Chemical Romance I have written all kinds of stuff. Here's my favourite:_

_Tossing, turning, writhing toilets make me feel good, I crap into them. There's a huge mountain over there, and I can climb  
it. Too steep? Nothing is "too steep". Nothing._

_"Billy? Wake up man!"_

_It's Tommy. I can make him out through the fuzz_

_"You had a fall out and stuff, dude. Get up mondo style!"_

_I try to obey his words but my blood supply is low._

_Here comes Didi again with that bloody nappy. I crap into it and she lets out a cry of indignation. Well, I'm a baby, get  
used to it you wench! Bloody wanker._

_"Whack smack paddywhack on the pimphole and crack scarface gtip get da break and choo get da MONEYS homey!"_

_He's really funny and I'm proud to have him as my brother!_

_

* * *

_I refuse to write any more chapters until I receive 126 reviews for my story, for I do not believe that the people here deserve this artistic enlightenment that I am providing. May they learn from their **coarse mistakes**!


End file.
